At this Matt shook her head with great decision, but said nothing. Greatly puzzled, the young man looked at her, and mused. It was clear that there was a mystery somewhere, and he was getting interested. Presently, he invited Matt to sit down on the steps of the caravan, and he placed himself at her side. He was too absorbed in speculation to notice how the girl coloured and brightened as they sat there together.
“You have often told me that you came ashore,” he said, after a long pause. “I should like to know something of how it happened. I don’t exactly know what this ‘coming ashore’ means. Can you explain?”
“I don’t remember,” she replied, “but I know there was a ship, and it went to pieces, and I floated to shore in a boat, or something.”
“I see—and William Jones found you?”
“Mr. Monk, he found me, and gave me to William Jones to keep.”
“I begin to understand. Of course, you were very little—a baby, in fact.”
“William Jones says I could just talk some words, and that when he took me home I called him ‘Papa.’”
“What was the name of the ship? Have you ever heard?”
“No,” said Matt.
“Did you come ashore all alone? It is scarcely possible!”